Iron Fist Beatrix

Mid-morning settled over the living room in a humid warmth. Breakfast was over a couple of hours ago—no more sizzling pans or random chatter.

Hinata wiped the countertop until it was clean. She tilted her head, squinting at any spot she might have missed.

After making sure everything around the kitchen was covered, she hung the towel on a hook attached to the side of the fridge.

Hinata paused. The TV was turned off. Everything was quiet.

“Haven’t seen him since breakfast. What’s that idiot up to?”

From the window, she heard the faint clang of clashing metal from the garage. After some thought, she took a glass and filled it with ice-cold water. Then she scanned the fridge.

There were sliced loaves, eggs, and cheese spread.

Hinata nodded at herself. This won't take long.

— • —

In the garage, Crow was hunched beside his motorcycle, his hair loose and messily tied. Grease streaked his arm as he worked with a socket wrench, cursing at a stubborn bolt that wouldn’t budge.

Hinata paused at the entrance. No grand gestures, no dorky charm. Just Crow.

Her eyes caught his broad shoulders. His toned arms. Things about him that she never really thought of.

He seemed almost… impressive. Not that she’d ever admit it out loud.

Her grip tightened on the glass as she turned, a half-step out of the exit. She clicked her tongue.

With her lips pursed, she nervously walked towards the table beside the workbench, holding the glass of water and a plate of sandwiches.

Crow glanced over his shoulder, strands of hair down in his eyes.

“Oh, Hinata. Do you need anything?”

“Looked like you were dying.” She replied with a flat tone.

He turned to her, spotting the glass and plate in her hands.

Crow’s eyes widened. “For me?”

Hinata crossed her arm. “Doofus. Do I have to say it out loud?”

She barely finished her sentence as Crow began munching on the snack. She watched him stuff his mouth with big bites, his face in bliss. She felt a tiny tug at her chest.

“Hey, at least wash your hands.”

“Waste of time. Life’s too short.”

She scoffed at his carefree attitude. Not strange; she was getting used to it anyway.

Suddenly—a presence.

Hinata darted out of the basement. She saw a slick, black car parked near the gate. And a group of men wearing black.

Her stance squared as her senses alerted quickly. The men didn’t seem hostile, but she readied just in case.

Crow followed, sandwich still in hand.

“What’s going on?”

Hinata didn’t reply. Then, there was the snarky giggle that Hinata had heard many times before.

A figure turned around the corner. Tall. Elegant. A long navy coat billowed behind her like a cape. Her heels tapped on the pavement with a satisfying click.

The lady gave the air beside her a delicate brush. No words yet. But the aura around them screamed one message:

Royalty had arrived.

“Kanno Hinata.” The visitor smirked like bladed silk.

Hinata’s jaw tightened. She folded her arms, more relaxed than in her previous posture.

Crow jolted as if a switch had flipped in his memory. “Wait… That’s—”

“Eisenfaust! What are you doing here? Hinata barked at the unexpected guest.

— • —

“Honestly, Kanno… Must you always be so uncultured?” Her chin tilted upward, eyes gleaming. Regal. Dismissive.

Behind her, the butler—white hair, tuxedo, glasses— gave Hinata a slight bow.

Hinata’s eye twitched—just a bit. No surprise. Just crossed arms and a stare as flat as stone.

Crow’s eyes darted between the stranger and Hinata. His expression twisted somewhere between recognition and disbelief.

“…Beatrix? Beatrix Eisenfaust?”

“Mhm,” Hinata replied, her tone as enthusiastic as someone spotting a bug on the wall.

Crow blinked. The name. The perfectly tailored outfit. The smug aura.

“That’s her? She’s real, too?”

Iron Fist Beatrix, as she is known in the game. Dylan’s main.

Tension simmered beneath the surface. Beatrix strolled forward, her voice floating in the air with a narcissistic tone.

“Oh my… hiding among the dirt as always, are we, Kanno?”

Hinata didn’t flinch. Her stare remained cold, uninterested, and unimpressed.

“How tastelessly quaint,” Beatrix glanced around, resting a gloved hand beneath her chin. “I suppose some of us must learn to find comfort in… such humble surroundings.”

She smiled—small, delicate, venomous.

Hinata exhaled.

“Scram, Eisenfaust. Whatever it is you want, I’m not interested.”

Beatrix stopped. The pain of her bruised ego hit with the force of an asteroid flattening a city.

Suddenly— the grace, the poise, all vaporized in an instant. Beatrix’s face morphed into something wild. Something feral.

“YOU ARROGANT, EMPTY-HEADED PIECE OF TRASH!!” she screeched, lunging forward like a rabid flamingo in designer heels.

Crow took a step back. “Wha—”

Hinata glanced over, unfazed.

“What? Not what you expected?”

Beatrix didn’t stop.

“And your hair—don’t even get me started on your hair! What is that?! Do you even shampoo? Disgusting!”

She wasn’t finished. Not even close.

“Just because you got out of the pig’s pen doesn’t mean you’re human! Well, congratulations, you flat-chested basement dweller!”

THUNK.

The rant stopped cold.

A soft hammer fist tapped the crown of Beatrix’s head into a hard reset.

“Lady Beatrix,” her butler intoned quietly.

She froze. Mid-word. Mid-snarl.

Like a glitching hologram, she straightened, smoothed her coat, and reassembled her face.

“Ahem. Commendable, Oswald.”

Her tone returned to polished nobility. No apology. No shame. Just calibration.

“My sincerest apologies,” she said airily. “One mustn’t let… commonfolk disrupt her natural elegance.” She dusted off her shoulder as if it had been soiled by lowborn air.

Hinata could only sigh in exasperation. She looked at Beatrix, now with a flicker of interest. Or pity. “Fine… What do you want, Eisenfaust?”

Beatrix took a slow breath, lifting her gaze to the clouds like she was seeking divine strength.

“It’s exhausting,” she said, tone blooming with affected melancholy, “These days, the Arena feels like a circus for cattle. Loud. Brainless. Uninspired.”

Her fingers grazed the clasp of her coat.

“What I crave… is elegance in violence. And a worthy opponent.”

With one fluid motion, her coat slipped from her shoulders, the fabric catching the breeze like a curtain at an opera house. The cravat followed, and then the long sleeves, revealing a tightly bandaged torso and midriff, her form just as sculpted as Hinata’s.

Crow’s brain blew up into oblivion.

“Oh no, she’s hot. She’s beautiful. Scary. And fully jacked.”

Beatrix rolled her neck, stepping into her stance. One leg forward. Hands hovering—one loose, one sharp.

She raised her thumb under her nose in a sharp swipe.

“Prepare yourself.”

— • —

A faint smirk escaped Hinata’s lips. She stretched her back and sides. She began skipping on her toes, trying to inject adrenaline into her veins.

“Well…” she said, voice dry, “guess it’s good to fiddle with a practice dummy once in a while.”

Crow backed away slowly, looking like he had been trapped in the middle of a planetary collision. “Okay, cool. I need a bomb shelter.”

Beatrix flinched slightly. Hinata stepped forward, stance casual, fists loose, chin tucked.

Crow held his breath as the two squared off. Then, deep in his gamer brain, one word echoed:

“FIGHT!”

Their arms clashed against each other.

Beatrix struck first. She shot a snappy, test jab, and Hinata slid through it. Beatrix’s footwork adjusted. She moved around like water circling a rock.

Hinata stepped up the pressure. Beatrix lunged in with a straight palm aimed at Hinata’s chest. Hinata parried her hand and returned fire with a straight to the chin. Beatrix snapped her head to the side just in time.

They pivoted on their toes into a reset.

“You attack like a puppy,” she said.

Hinata’s eyes narrowed. “You hit like a feather.”

They engaged again.

Beatrix exploited angles. Slipping inside Hinata’s guard, she tagged her with rapid-fire punches, stepping away before Hinata could counter. Her strikes were open-handed, heel palms, and flicking kicks—each attack interruptive, each retreat tight and calculated.

Hinata stood her ground. She advanced through Beatrix’s range, shoulders hunched, hands close to her face. Her strikes were short, blunt, and brutal—fists, forearms, low kicks, knees. No wasted motion. No fancy footwork.

Floating grace against crippling pressure.

Crow held his breath from the sidelines. “Holy crap. Insane. Should I call Dylan?” he thought.

They rolled, scrambled, and reset—back on their feet in under a second.

Blood glistened on Beatrix’s lip. Dirt streaked Hinata’s cheek.

A blur of strikes followed. Beatrix intercepted, redirected, and punished. Hinata bulldozed through, broke rhythm, and landed heavy.

CRACK.

Hinata’s fist smashed across Beatrix’s jaw. A beat later, Hinata felt something sharp sting.

Beatrix buried a hook into Hinata’s liver.

Both paused. Hinata froze. Beatrix staggered.

Two steps back. Steady breaths.

One hand clutched her side. The other wiped her cracked lip. Neither down. Neither smug.

“You’re still sharp, Kanno,” Beatrix said, her voice cool and steady.

Hinata rolled her shoulder, one arm wrapped beneath her ribs. Her breath remained steady.
“You too. Haven’t softened.”

Beatrix flicked her braid, turning her back without another word. Oswald stood waiting, her coat folded across his arm. She slid it on without breaking stride.

“The CKC hasn’t forgotten about you, Kanno. They were riled by what happened to Lambert.”

She paused, just long enough to glance back.

“For now, I’ve stalled them. You should thank me.”

Hinata didn’t respond.

Beatrix snapped her fingers once, and her limousine growled to life. “Stay sharp, Empress.”

Then, turning toward Crow, she shot him a sideways glance. “And do take care of your lovely host. He seems... earnest.” She winked at him.

Hinata exhaled sharply, as if unaffected. “Mind your business, blabbermouth.”

“Have fun, darlings~,” Beatrix slid into her vehicle and vanished.

And for the first time in a while, the street fell silent. Crow drifted to Hinata’s side.

“I expected her to use some ballet moves,” he quipped.

“Tch. That cartoon princess? Hits like a point-blank cannon. Try catching it next time.” She said, walking back to the apartment with a huff.

Crow chuckled. “Not so obvious.”

He followed Hinata with a strange aftertaste of having survived something utterly ridiculous.